


Pillow Talk

by casthewise (quillquiver)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Love Confessions, M/M, Pillow Talk, Song of Songs, kinda bibleslash?, more romantic than anything else, song of solomon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/casthewise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel smiles at his sleepy human, shifting to press their mouths together softly. “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

Dean collapses on top of Castiel’s chest, sated and warm with afterglow. He presses soft, wet kisses to the angel’s chest with a hum. Cas smiles, and of his part, runs his fingers through Dean’s light brown hair. He doesn’t speak until sometime later: “Have you ever read the Song of Solomon? Sometimes referred to as the Song of Songs?”

Dean shakes his head minutely, loathe to dislodge Cas’s hand. “Maybe Sam has,” he sighs, eyes slipping shut. “Who wrote it?”

“It's in the Bible,” Castiel says softly, blunt nails scratching gloriously at his hunter’s scalp. “The story of two lovers, written by a man named Absalom. Not King Solomon’s son, this Absalom was a shepherd. Kind. Generous. Devout. He wrote, arguably, the most beautiful book in the Hebrew Bible.”

Dean hums sleepily.

“He wrote it for the King,” Castiel continues. “Which is where the name comes from. Of course, Absalom was not truly important, and so he has been forgotten… but his poem was remembered.” Cas pauses, other fingers tracing patterns on Dean’s bare shoulder. “It’s my favourite part of the books of Wisdom.”

“Mmm.”

Castiel smiles at his sleepy human, shifting to press their mouths together softly. “ _Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth, for your love is better than wine_.”

In slow, lovely blinks, the green of Dean’s eyes become visible.

“ _Tell me_ ,” Cas breathes. “ _You whom my soul loves, where you pasture your flock, where you make it lie down at noon; for why should I be like one who is veiled beside the flocks of your companions?_ ”

Completely awake now, Dean listens intently.

“ _As an apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among young men, With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste_.” Cas playfully nips at Dean’s bottom lip, softly kissing away any redness the action left behind. “ _He brought me to the banqueting house, and his intention towards me was love. Sustain me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love_.”

Castiel pulls away only slightly then, blue locked with green as he runs a thumb over Dean’s spit licked bottom lip, his voice is infused with warmth: “ _My beloved is mine and I am his_.”

Dean’s breath hitches.

“ _You have ravished my heart with a glance of your eyes… How much better is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your oils than any spice_.” Cas smiles. “ _Awake, O north wind, and come, O south wind. Blow upon my garden, that its fragrance may be wafted abroad. Let my beloved come to his garden and eat its choicest fruits… Eat, friends, drink, and be drunk with love._ ”

Dean listens, enraptured by the soft rumble of his lover’s voice, eyes slipping shut when Cas holds his chin gently between thumb and forefinger, leading him in for a sweet kiss.

“ _I had put off my garment; how could I put it on again? I had bathed my feet; how could I soil them? My beloved thrust his hand into the opening, and my inmost being yearned for him_.” Ever so lightly, Castiel extends and arm to run his fingers over Dean’s posterior. The hunter automatically spreads his legs, face burying into Cas’s chest. He holds his breath.

“ _I arose to open to my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh upon the handles of the bolt. I opened to my beloved… but my beloved had turned and was gone_.” He drags his fingers back up to Dean’s hair and face, and the human whimpers at the loss: “Cas..”

“ _My soul failed me when he spoke_ ,” Castiel replies affectionately. “ _I sought him, but did not find him; I called him, but he gave no answer… I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved tell him this: I am faint with love_.”

The angel maneuvers them so he doesn’t have to contort to look into Dean’s eyes. “ _My beloved is all radiant and ruddy, distinguished among ten thousand._ ” He kisses the tip of Dean’s nose before pressing his lips to the hunter’s closed eyelids. “ _His eyes are like doves beside springs of water, bathed in milk, fitly set_.” His fingers brush across the blushing skin of Dean’s cheekbones. “ _His cheeks are like beds of spices, yielding fragrance._ ” A soft kiss to Dean’s mouth. “ _His lips are lilies, distilling liquid myrrh. His arms are rounded gold, set with jewels. His body is ivory work, encrusted with sapphires._ ” Castiel’s hands run down Dean’s arms and torso until he gingerly hooks the hunter’s leg around his waist. “ _His legs are alabaster columns, set upon bases of gold._ ”

Dean is breathless.

Which is odd, he thinks, because neither he nor Cas are even fully hard. They probably should be, with the words and the closeness and the way they’re touching, but Dean is honestly not interested in sex at the moment. He just… he just wants to be closer. He just wants Cas to never stop talking.

“ _His appearance is like Lebanon, choice as cedars_ ,” Castiel breathes against Dean’s mouth. “ _His speech is most sweet, and he is altogether desirable. This is my beloved and this is my friend_.”

Impossibly,  _embarrassingly_ , the hunter feels a slight wetness at his eyes that Cas immediately kisses away. “Dean?” the angel asks, concerned.

Dean nods, pressing their mouths together with a furrowed brow. “Please…” he pleads.

Castiel holds him tight. “ _I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me_.”

Dean breathes out shakily against the crook of Cas’s neck.

“ _Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm; for love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, a raging flame. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If one offered love all the wealth of one’s house, it would be utterly scorned_.”

Castiel pulls away, tugging at Dean’s lighter hair so they can look at each other again. “My beloved is righteous among men,” he says, voice love-warm and low. “Evil flees from him, but for the darkness he so unjustly carries within. His soul is stardust. Brighter than one thousand suns, he brims with warmth. He is Hercules. He is David. He is Dean.” Cas runs his fingers along the bolt of Dean’s jaw, never looking away from his eyes. “He is kindness. He is generosity. He is goodness. Grace. He is the fruit of a life so filled with hardship, and yet he is not rotted. My beloved is the sweetest fig on the highest branch in my Father’s garden; perfection in all his flaws. Should he fall, I will always catch him… for I am faint with love.”

Dean can hardly breathe. He chokes on the words beginning to push through his lips, filled with such sweet confessions of love he’s sure to get cavities. “I… Cas, I…”

Castiel only smiles. “I know,” he breathes sweetly.

But that isn’t good enough. Dean is going to burst from all the words he wants to say—the words he _needs_  to say, he just- he can’t…

“I think you messed up the last verse,” he says finally, lamely.

“I may have taken a few liberties,” Cas agrees with a smile. “But nothing that isn’t true.”

Dan huffs an embarrassed laugh, squeezing his eyes shut from the onslaught of tears as he buries his face into his angel’s neck once more, clutching to him tightly. When he opens his mouth, the only words that come are: “thank you," cracked and fragile.

Castiel feels his heart skip a beat. 

It’s enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> *All italicized dialogue is from ‘the Song of Songs’, which is part of the Books of Wisdom in the Hebrew Bible. I just took my favourite snippets from the poem and used them here, but the entire thing is gorgeous… It’s really short, too, so if you haven’t read it, go do that!
> 
> ** Absalom didn't actually write the Song of Songs. The author of the book is currently unknown.


End file.
